Fiction
by the-brightest-fell
Summary: Short drabble. Deep down, he knows that one world is real and the other is fiction; something he most likely created. But, for now, he'll go along with whatever is happening to him...because in one world there's Maka and in the other...


**A/N**: I apologize. For like, not updating and posting and stuff. Life's kind of been hard lately and I've been so stressed that I barely had enough time to breath much less write. Plus, stress sort of kills inspiration for me for whatever reason. Lately, things have settled and I'm slowly coming back to life as a writer. I've now been able to put words on the blank sheet where last week all I could do was stare at it. Thank you for understanding and I will try to have updates to APoS and WaTD soon though I'm not going to post any shit writing so hopefully my imagination comes back. Until then, I decided to start with this small drabble I started a while ago but recently finished. I recommend listing to 'Fiction' by the xx as it heavily inspired this. I genuinely like the idea behind this one and may actually expand later but for now, here's this little thing. Thanks again and I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Soul Eater or the xx and their awesome music.

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**Fiction**

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He lives in two worlds.

One real and one fiction.

And deep in the pit of his soul, no matter how much he tries to ignore it, he has this sinking, gut-wrenching feeling that he knows which one is which.

But he doesn't desire to act on this knowledge. Doesn't desire to figure out what's going on or whether he's right or wrong. His investigative curiosity has disappeared, drifted away into a cloudy mist that hovers in the back of his mind. He dodges it whenever it begins to drift over him; whenever he begins to really ponder what strange limbo he's currently residing in. No, he's fine living without knowing.

Because in one world there's Maka and in the other…

He wakes up in a bed ten times too large for him. He wakes up cold and in a room lightly clothed in dust and dirty laundry; a paradoxical appearance of use and absence. He wakes up to too dull colors and gray vision even if streams of sunlight successfully filter through tightly closed blinds.

But, most importantly, he wakes up alone.

He doesn't attempt to remember what happened. Doesn't ask the few visitors daring enough to breach his cave of sadness and despair what day it is or why he can't sleep or why his partner isn't there. He uses enough energy to nod, though usually that's all he can muster, in the barest reply to their whispers of sorrow and offers of assistance.

Because, honestly, what can they do?

But, sometimes…sometimes they bring exaltations. Sometimes, his visitors…his friends walk in the door as though nothing ever happened. Black Star breaks windows and stands on the coffee table, yelling to the world of his awesome might. Tsubaki stands close, the ever watchful and loyal mother, and her eyes sparkle with their usual warmth and joy. Liz and Patty are calming bookends on either side of Kidd who almost flies into a full-on, foaming-at-the-mouth conniption because Black Star's wrecked some symmetry of some sort.

And Maka laughs before meeting his piercing gaze with a slow, happy smile, completely oblivious to her partner's extreme joy and pressing heartache at just seeing her _there_.

It's a bitter realization that they're only his friends in a world where _she _lives.

But he guesses if she's not there…then he isn't either.

Death once said they would end up the strongest team…a team able to defeat any kishin, any witch…any god should they desire to. He said their souls were _bound _together in a way that left it hard for any to see where one began and the other ended.

He supposes that's why when her soul left, his did, too. It couldn't, _wouldn't_ let go of the angel that saved it and ended up flying away with her last breath.

And so, he doesn't mind being trapped in this paradox. Doesn't mind lying in the black room staring at the ceiling waiting for sleep to come. He stays there and ignores the futile cries of his body for food and water and rest because he doesn't want to risk upsetting whatever purgatory he's in. Eventually, exhaustion will approach; an enemy once shrugged off he now welcomes as his dearest friend. It will settle over him…and he'll allow it to take him back under heavy eyelids and painful depths.

Because this time when he wakes up, it'll be with her in his arms.


End file.
